lost day

hot

The humid weather makes me grouchy. But sitting outside on Montague Street having coffee with F_______, my writer friend, was nice. The breeze was soft and Mabel enjoyed the attention of the waitress, who could not get over how cute she was.

lamotrigine

My doctor has increased my dosage of lamictal, also called lamotrigine. I will start tomorrow. I hope it helps me. Lately I have had a terrible time sleeping, and my mood is erratic, causing me a lot of strife especially in my personal relationships. I am very difficult to be around, get angry at the drop of a hat, or sink into black states of despair. My main activity for this week has been swimming furiously until I am near collapse, and taking photographs. Composing is going slowly, when it goes at all.

jury duty

I reported to the State Supreme Court of Kings County at 8:45 am, as directed on my jury summons. I nervously clutched the letter from my doctor in my hand and a man gruffly directed to a large room in the ground floor, down a flight of a cavernous stairwell. I waited in a slow line and finally was face to face with the clerk, a small woman with a tight-lipped expression and brassy dyed hair. I said good morning and handed her the letter. She read it, re-read it, studied my jury summons, wrote something down, stamped the remaining portion of the summons and handed it back to me. I saw a glimpse of what she wrote. It said "exc" and "ret." I wonder what it means. "Exc" surely is "excused. "Ret"? Retired? Return? Retarded?

I have served on jury duty in Brooklyn twice before, but given the wild fluctuation in my moods and my inability to sleep, my doctor agreed with me that it would be best if I didn't serve this time. I was worried that it might be embarassing to have some clerk give me the third degree but she didn't ask me any questions.

After she handed me the letter and summons she said "have a nice day" and she smiled. I smiled back and said "you too." I feel most comfortable when people are kindly polite. I was raised to be that way myself. My mom was very strict about it, and so we are all, my brother and sister and I, almost absurdly good-mannered.

touch

scary

Just now, listening to NPR, I heard a segment on how the Supreme Court vacancy is playing out in the "heartland." People from a church in Omaha were interviewed. First, we heard the pastor leading a special "prayer meeting" in which he opened by saying "we are here to pray for the Supreme Court." Then he told the interviewer that the opinions of the court are more secular than he thinks the "American People" wish them to be. Funny, last I checked, this was a secular country with a secular government. Next a woman was interviewed. She said "I trust President Bush. I am very happy with the decisions he has made and I know he will make the right decision. I am glad that he is our president." It is hard for me to fathom how anyone could say that, unless they don't read, don't follow world events, and can trust that smirking cowboy-idiot for even a few seconds.

how I keep myself sane (?)

les bleuets

les bleuets
Originally uploaded by madabandon.

I bought these blueberries. They are said to be good for the eyes. As I have another eye infection, I hope that they are. They look beautiful. But they are not the best-tasting blueberries I have had. Their looks trump their taste. That is true of many people I know also.

defaced

The brownstone down the block is being defaced. Literally, its surface has been chopped and chistled away. I gather that this is necessary every few decades, if you are a brownstone owner. It is interesting and a little frightening to see so much of the house removed; at the top so much is removed that I can't figure how the whole thing doesn't topple down and crumble to bits.

confusion

sign here
Originally uploaded by madabandon.

camouflage

He had a different strategy than she did.

view from below

Standing under the BQE, the ground actually shakes.

a gray day

The car wash is located in a rather bleak precinct of South Brooklyn. But while I was waiting this brightly-dressed woman crossed the perilous intersection. She was smartly dressed for her walk.

wash

Yesterday I took my car to Red Hook to get washed, since it was covered with some kind of noxious slime; it had been parked near a restaurant, and I think the garbage-carting truck that comes in the middle of the night might have been the culprit. The paint seems to be damaged in a few spots, but such is the plight of a city car that lives on the streets.

Probable Cause of Hopelessness #11

After my parents had divorced, my father remarried. Within a year or two, he and his new wife adopted two girls, sisters, from El Salvador. Then a little later they adopted a Mexican-American boy from Texas. After that, without even telling me, they adopted another boy from the Dominican Republic. They celebrated Christmas, an alien holiday to me and my brother and sister, and they went to church. My father, who had never spent much time with us since leaving, was occupied with his new family. After my mother died, he did make an effort to fulfill parental duties at critical times: weddings, graduations and such. But his family was not a part of mine, and never felt like it no matter how much time has passed. So now, so many years later, I still feel the sting of rejection; it still feels like my brother, sister and I were not enough, and that perhaps we remind him just too much of my mother, whom he clearly hated.

Probable Cause of Hopelessness #14

That terrible December, 1986, I would drive my mother to her radiation treatments. She told me how, while lying on the table, she would visualize the radiation chasing down the cancer cells in her brain and killing them.

Well, it didn't work. The radiation was ineffective, and the cancer galloped through her body with alarming speed, so much so that the doctors admitted, with rare candor, that they were shocked at the virulence of her disease. Four months, start to finish.

surprise

While I have decided, a while back, not to complain or dwell on my little miseries, I do have one question that maybe someone can answer for me. Why is it that, no matter how many times it happens, I am surprised when, after a few days of relative calm, I find myself sinking into this dark despair and hopelessness? Even though I know by now that it will not last, it is almost completely overwhelming.

Dream

(7-12-05)

I rode in a school bus through W___________, the town where I grew up. It looked more squalid than ever, decrepit and hard-hit; houses were crumbling. It had the look of a blighted, forgotten place. But the street names were familiar to me as the driver called out the stops. I was going there to go to college. The college office was located in a building that looked like my elementary school. I signed in with a secretary, an older woman in a white coat. I was shown to my room in a dormitory. The room was dark and cramped, wedge-shaped, with one small window looking out onto a dark stairwell. My room seemed to be below ground-level. The walls were thick damp concrete, with peeling paint and what appeared to be mushrooms or some sort of fungus growing in patches. There was a small dirty bed and a desk crammed into the impossibly narrow space. At some point--the chronology of the dream is unclear--the lady who checked me in gave me a funny look when I told her that I doubted I would stay in that room, that I was looking for an apartment in the town. Then I was handed a menu, as in a hospital, on which I was supposed to check my dinner choices. At dinner, when I met the other students, the food was repulsive to me, dishes of undercooked eggs, the same greyish color of the walls in my room.

25

awake

It is now 6:30 am and I have been awake for two hours. Last evening I had an attack of allergies: eyes, nose, sneezing, etc., and so I took a claritin. I stayed up until it had worked enough to let me breathe, and then finally fell asleep around midnight. But I was bolt-awake at 4:30, and despite my efforts to fall back asleep--breathing, trying to silence my brain--I gave up and read and played with Mabel. Now I feel exhausted. If I could sleep normally, in general, I would feel much better. I have been doing all the things I can think of to help: exercising almost daily, no caffeine later in the day, keeping to a schedule...but it does not work. I would say that I get about two normal nights of sleep a week, and the rest is a struggle. I wish that I could practice piano in the middle of the night so that at least I would accomplish something with my insomnia. When I am too tired I can't really compose, but practicing can be mechanically mindless enough to serve as a good way to pass the time productively.

television

television
Originally uploaded by madabandon.

many things...

Daily Horoscope for Wednesday, July 13

Everything is changing in your life. Take control and guide matters in a direction that will bring about a better future for you. Study, learning and upgrading should be your intent.

goodness

where I've been

foggy head

morning fog
Originally uploaded by madabandon.

Maybe it is because I am tired. Maybe my mood really is sinking fast. I feel dull. My legs hurt. I could sleep forever.

brick wall

four door
Originally uploaded by madabandon.

I slept terribly last night. Despite that, I was getting a lot of work done in the morning. Then I had to go into Manhattan to do some errands. Returning home, the heat and my fatigue slammed me like I hit a wall, and I felt exhausted. I had lunch with a friend (who interviewed me for a book project she is working on) and then I crawled home. Now I feel like a zombie. I am hoping hoping hoping that I won't have to report for jury duty on Friday. Please please please no.

car

I am proud of myself. I figured out how to unplug the drain holes, and a lot of water came running out, so I am fairly certain that the problem is taken care of. Now I will be vigilant and keep them clear, so that I don't have stagnant pools of water puddling at the feet of my passengers.

driving

Yesterday was a day of driving. I drove to Astoria with Y. to pick up some stuff he bought (dishes etc.). Then later I drove to Fort Greene. I went to Target and bought a huge container of cat litter. I discovered a puddle of water almost an inch deep in my car. I think the drain holes in the body are clogged, and thus water is leaking into the passenger compartment. I will try to get it fixed this week, or else mosquitoes will breed in there (hopefully not). Returning from Fort Greene, it was nearly impossible to find a parking space. It was a nice evening, and so people drive to my neighborhood to go to dinner and walk on the promenade. They take all the parking spots, and while driving around I realized that many of the other cars I saw were doing the same thing...

flowers

I love flowers. One year, my senior year of college, many friends sent me flowers on my birthday, huge bunches of multicolored gladiolas, which filled my room. Maybe it seemed like a funeral, but it made me very happy.

some sun

The sun is out this morning. Not strong, but clearly present.

Last evening I went to Y's to work on some songs. I was in a somewhat pissy mood. As usual, when I am in a bad mood Y cannot rise above it, and chooses then to act pissy too. So it was a bad combo. When I got home and was going to go to bed I discovered that Pomona had puked right in the center of my bed on my new duvet cover, a splurge (Calvin Klein ooh lala) so I had to do laundry, which is not what I had had in mind. Why do cats always do such things? She would never puke on the kitchen floor which is tile and easily cleaned. Always the bed or a rug or the sofa. Of course I can't get mad at her since she sings so sweetly to me all the time.

more rain

please listen

friday july 8 (rain)
Originally uploaded by madabandon.

Music for today...

evening

I had dinner last evening with Bao at Natori, which is a tiny Japanese place in the East Village that is one of my favorites. Bao looked relaxed and it was fun hearing about his trip to Italy. I always wish that I could/would travel more, but I get to live vicariously through hearing about his trips. Many of my good friends are intrepid travelers. I should follow their examples. The only big worry is my cats. But I am certain I could get someone they like to come stay here in my lux Brooklyn Heights crib, to watch them and keep them company. They get very depressed when left alone, and Tuna in particular is in precarious enough health that this could be very bad for him. Thanks for dinner, Bao.I will get the next one.

rain

I love the rain, especially this kind of summer rain. Sometimes gentle (right now) and sometimes violent (the evening before last), it does not make me feel glum as it does some people. In fact it tends to lift my mood. It is the bright sunny hot weather that makes me feel bad.

I am becoming obsessed with making these collage. I have a plan, but I can't reveal it here.

Pennsylvania

America (III)
Originally uploaded by madabandon.

There is my sister. There is my red car. They have a large driveway. In America, in most towns, families need large driveways because they have many cars. My sister and her husband have three: her car, his car, and his company car. Three cars for two drivers. Please explain.

water

I have been talking alot and thinking alot about moving lately. Not out of NYC, but to a new place. I have been living in this apartment for over ten years, and in Brooklyn Heights for about thirteen. I like Fort Greene a lot. A change could be great. But then I realized, I need to live near water. Fort Greene is landlocked. Scratch that idea.

peaches

The color of these peaches is extraordinary, particularly in the light of today's strange glowing grey sky. My apartment faces north--the best light for painting--and since it is on the top floor it has an unobstructed view of sky from every window.

better

Well, my day has gotten better. I went for a swim, and I didn't get short of breath and was able to actually get moving. And I bought these beautiful peaches on the way home. There are more helicopters flying around than usual, but by now I am used to them.

don't forget

Tony Blair

Listening to Tony Blair on the BBC this morning, I was struck by his eloquence. Comparing his extemporaneous remarks to similar ones by Bush, I felt so much more confidence in Blair's leadership than in our own clumsy inarticulate president, who speaks like a not particularly bright middle school student full of swagger and bullishness.

what a morning

So far, and I have only been awake for less than two hours, this morning has been odd and not at all promising.

First I woke and turned on NPR and heard about the terror attacks in London, which threw me into a state (I saw all of 9-11 from my apartment, including the second plane flying into the tower, and the collapse of both towers, and to this day I have sudden flashbacks and acute anxiety about it).

Then while walking my cute Mabel a bird shit on my leg. Back at my building, I got on the service elevator (dogs are not supposed to take the other ones) with the lovely housekeeper of a family on the third floor, and the elevator got stuck. My incompetent doorman only responded to the alarm after we had rang it at least half a dozen times.

Maybe I had better not leave home. But I will, as I have various things to do.

(whisper)

(what I don't like feeling is that this is a battle I will always lose)

beautiful

Whirlingboy's flower pictures are really beautiful. Check them out.

Stupid Me

So yesterday, after a morning swim, I decided I would tackle the onerous task of re-grouting the shower (as those who might actually read this blog would already know). And so I did. The first step is to remove the old grout with a grout saw. I did this with great energy and determination, and a certain amount of stupidity, because I didn't realize that this activity would create a huge amount of dust, and so I didn't wear a mask, and so I inhaled the dust, even more so because my shower is a separate stall shower (I also have a tub, such luxury!) and so I was sawing away at the grout in a small enclosed space. So last night I have a horrific allergy attack as my respiratory system fought the intruding dust, and today I can hardly breathe. I went swimming (just returned) and was quickly winded in my worst asthmatic way. But the grouting is done, mostly; there are a few spots I must touch up. I promise I will never again try to do it without wearing a little surgical mask.

Lying

1981

I wanted to be a serious student. So I sat with my stack of books
in the “twenty-four hour room” where I could smoke while I read.
It was like a fishbowl, three walls of windows and too social,
but I liked it anyway. Better than hiding in the stacks.
Up comes a guy, a “music nerd” as I called him
(although I myself was one too), what I defiantly was not,
and he asked me if I wanted to go get a drink. Yes.
So we walked in the dark to Main and he bought me a beer.
He had a coke. I drank my beer and smoked and when I finished
he asked me if I wanted another and I said no, I had more work to do.
Then he said “I was going to get you drunk and seduce you”
and I said you can get me drunk but you can’t seduce me.

today I heard a whistle, and...

1983

for Andrew

I remember that April afternoon, in college,
the sun pouring into the kitchen through the sliding doors,
Andrew said why don’t you come to Europe with us.
I just looked outside and did not answer. Then a few weeks later
I drove in my brown car back to Pennsylvania.
I lived in my mother’s house, in my old room,
and every morning I woke up at dawn and rode my
red bicycle fast through the carless streets to the pool,
water glinting with early sun, and I cleaned until the first kids came.
Then I was tough, nice but mean when I had to be,
and the team never lost in three years. After practice
I taught swimming lessons for one hour; so many
pale little bodies trembling with mouths shut tight,
wincing as they fell into the water where I would
catch them. Then at noon a quick break; I would ride away
and smoke a joint, maybe, and then go back to lifeguard.
I was terribly cool, ray-bans and twirling my whistle
and leaning, in the office, into the microphone, making
the sound of thunder if the clouds looked right, so that the
swimmers would have to leave the water and my friends and
I could have a break from working. Every day the same,
at ten (after work) we would gather at the lake and drink and
fool around. And I was so strong, I would carry twenty tables,
each one ninety pounds at least, over my head from one end of the place
to the other, and do hundreds of pullups and swim lap after furious lap,
and carry fifty twenty-gallon jugs of chlorine into the pumphouse
until my muscles were big, my shoulders wide and my hair
bleached almost blonde from the sun (true though you would not believe it now).
And at the end of August I put my things in that same brown car
and drove north. To Poughkeepsie, my heart sinking a bit as
I crossed the Mid-Hudson Bridge and then pulling up to the apartment
there sat my housemate “poet” back from his summer in Europe
and he looked at me in my preppy clothes with my suntan and muscles
and laughed. In that moment, deciding not to punch his teeth out
I walked past him and went inside. But for at least one day
I was too scared to leave my hot, tiny room.

Guard

Guard

Some time ago
I gave up on being saved.
Time again I saw, one by one,
fly away, balloons
broken from a bunch.
Now I know that, even though
I can save others--
all those hours in the sun
splashing blue water lulling me--
I cannot do it for myself.
Funny to think that a man
is just a thing so delicate,
that a blade, a single blade,
can ravage the flesh and
let the soul fly,
like a balloon released
on an afternoon, in the sun,
the splashing blue sky.

bubbles

I went swimming, but after only about 1000 yards I felt quite tired so I stopped. I sat in the sun for about ten minutes (get that vitamin D!) and then left. Now I am re-grouting my shower. It is dirty hard work. Why I decided to do it when I am already tired is a question I can't answer.

strange

I had strange dislocated dreams last night. At one point I remember I was observing a class, and I looked down at my leg and saw I was wearing a dress and red woman's shoes.

fireworks

I went to see the fireworks at the Promenade. I thought of climbing the fire escape to the roof, but last summer someone did that and it was frowned upon by the co-op board. When I returned from the fireworks (quite nice, but much too crowded for me, one who dislikes crowds) the doorman told me that it turns out the super opened up the door to the roof, which is normally alarmed. If I had waited another twenty minutes or so I would have known and could have borught my guests to watch from there. As it was, we could only see the fireworks through the trees, which was interesting, but we missed much of the splendor of the show.

conscious/conscience

The tree, of which you see a small part, is a mulberry tree. It was heavy with ripe fruit which people were casually picking and eating. A woman, late 20's, was sitting near the tree with her parents. Later, when it was less crowded in the park, they walked over to the tree with a large tarp. The parents held the tarp open, and the woman shook the limbs of the tree so that hundreds of mulberries fell; they then would pour the mulberries into a large plastic bucket. I stared, finding it hard to believe that they could be so crass. Three little kids walked over, an the lady handed them a few mulberries to eat. Finally I couldn't stand it any longer. I walked over and I said "wouldn't it be a good idea to save some for other people?" The woman looked at me, seemingly confused. Her parents asked her something in another language which I could not hear well enough to recognize. They consulted with each other, and then they gathered up their stuff and walked away. As I was walking back to my spot, another woman, who had gathered a modest number of mulberries, said "they're mulberries. They're really good." I said "I can't believe that they were taking so many." She said "they're for everybody, right?" I said "exactly. Everybody should be able to have some." She smiled and ate a few.

Maybe I was meddling in something that was not my business. But I wondered how they could assume that they could rightfully harvest all the mulberries from the single mulberry tree in the park. I hate to get all righteous (as my brother would say) but it shows a lack of consciousness and conscience, to do what they did. And besides, the mulberries are great. Everyone should get some. When I was a kid they grew at the farm where we kept our horses, and I would ride under the tree and pick them while sitting up high perched on my horse (my high horse, maybe the same one I was riding when I reprimanded the mulberry poachers).

drag

I saw this poster on a construction barricade in Dumbo. I thought it was a drag queen, then I looked more closely and found out that it was Alicia Keys. Maybe Alicia Keys is a drag queen. It sounds like a drag name.

centered

PA was fun. My nephews are super-cute, and the weather was beautiful. My cousin has moved up from Florida, and she hung out with us. She has a big crazy young dog who was charming and scared Mabel. On the drive, though, three separate cars almost killed us. Each time the car would pull out almost right in front of me, causing me to swerve and slam on the brakes. It is a good thing I have very fast reflexes. I felt as if my car might be invisible. So that was a bit stressful. The last time it happened, on the way home, on Route 202 in PA, my adrenalin was rushing so powerfully through me that I thought I would pass out once the shock wore off.

I have felt quite centered and stable the last few days. It seems that when I feel like I have a solid "family" life then I feel much better in all ways. Loneliness and isolation bring on feelings of insecurity and make me feel like crises loom around every corner. Lessons learned...

river's edge

river's edge
Originally uploaded by madabandon.

play

At Brooklyn Bridge Park, in Dumbo...

pink eye

From my sister's garden...

going

let's go
Originally uploaded by madabandon.

Goint to PA today to see my sister and have a BBQ.

tuna's nose

tuna's nose
Originally uploaded by madabandon.

Tuna, on a chair that is too small for him

tuna lounging
Originally uploaded by madabandon.

Tuna is so sweet. Yesterday I brushed him. He had a huge mat of hair near his butt. He can no longer groom himself so thoroughly because he is very arthritic. So I had to get the mat out, and he was really pissed with me. But once it was out, he seemed pleased with himself.

At his peak Tuna weighed about 26 pounds. Now he is shrinking some. I put him at about 21 pounds now. He has a benign but large growth on his neck, but other than that he is in pretty good shape for sixteen, according to the vet.

nineteen

That same summer, when I was nineteen, I worked as a lifeguard and coached a swimming team. So did Cristi. On our days off we would drive to Point Pleasant where there was a beautiful secluded swimming hole on property owned by a wealthy gay man, Wayne. Wayne was a friendly guy with an impish smile, and if he liked you you could swim at his place. Wayne approved of me, as Cristi had assured me he would, and he told me I could come swim any time I liked. The first time Cristi brought me there, Wayne kept taking my picture.

Most people there swam nude. So I got brave and did so too. One day, a rare day off in midweek, I went there by myself; Cristi was working. I walked to a rock overlooking the water, took off my clothes, and sat down to relax. This much older guy--I had seen him there before--sat a few yards away. I remember he had a huge dick. He was staring at me. I felt self-conscious but I didn't leave. After about twenty minutes he walked over. He asked me to go to his place ("It's right nearby") so that he could take pictures of me. "I will pay you," he told me. I could not imagine doing that. "No thanks," I said. I pulled on my shorts and walked away, to my car, and drove out of there.

watch your step/watching my step

Well, I am usually stupid. When my mood is fine I tend to forget that it often is not. So today--or really last night--when I began to sink, I was surprised. But now, midday, I have sunk. And I know that the best thing for me to do is sit tight, stay home, try to either keep busy or sleep, but above all, avoid getting myself into difficult situations. Because I am so easily irritated, hurt and offended when I feel depressed, it is best to limit my contact with others. I was just at the gym, swimming, and when I finished and was in the locker room some guy with a locker near mine had spread his stuff all over the bench and gave me no room. He seemed oblivious, and his selfish behavior made me mad. I had to remind myself to shut up, because I was tempted to argue with him. Likewise, just now, I was walking Mabel. A neighbor stopped to ask me a favor. In mid-conversation another neighbor came along, and first neighbor turned away from me while I was in mid-sentence and proceeded to begin another conversation, essentially ignoring the fact that we were just speaking. I walked away, pissed, and she said "sorry Jonathan." I nodded, my acknowledgement of her apology, but I felt utterly dejected and hurt.

For some reason, on the train coming home from the gym, I was overwhelmed with this memory. In high school I was sexually confused, like so many. I had girlfriends. I fooled around with them. I didn't fool around with guys, but I was curious. I was also too inhibited to act on my curiosity. The assistant coach of my swimming team was one of the few teachers at my school who could be considered "intellectual;" he was also gay, but very discreet. He did not hide who he was, and appeared at social gatherings (he was a friend of my mother's) with younger, surfer-type guys. After I had graduated, we kept in touch, and sometimes I would get together with a few other high school friends and go to his house, where he gave us beers and scotch and we would get drunk. One such night I was there, quite drunk, and realized that my friends had left. So it was me and Mr. __________. He started saying to me "You are different from the other guys. I always felt that about you." I agreed. I had always felt different. Only at Vassar, where I was then a student, did I know that there were other guys like me. So I felt that with Mr. ___________ the conversation might become interesting, and I was eager to talk to a gay man who seemed "normal," not the drag-queen ultra-femme types from high school, the obvious ones, with whom I felt no kinship (thus my confusion: how could I be gay, when I was not feminine? I was a good athlete, masculine, a little tough guy even).

So we talked, he kept filling my glass with more whiskey, and then he put his hand on my thigh. I froze. He became more aggressive. "Come on, don't give me that," he said, angry. "You know why you are here." He started to try and feel me up. I jumped up, suddenly not so drunk, and pushed him away and ran out of there. Driving away (I was staying at my mother's, not far away, and it was late so there would be no traffic and though I was drunk I was used to driving that way, carefully) I thought, "this is not what I wanted. It is not what I wanted at all." I never saw him againbut I spoke to him once. He was in Chicago, for a conference, and he called me and asked me to meet him for drinks at his hotel. He had gotten my phone number from my mom or maybe my sister. I agreed to meet him, but then I stood him up.

self-portrait

I have not been taking my portrait pictures. I have such difficulty sticking to a plan. I was not always this way. In graduate school I was single-minded in my work. What happened? Or maybe I am better off now.

blurry

I feel normal this morning, except that I think I have sneezed at least sixty times since waking, from allergies. I just took a claritin as a last resort.

Last night my three comrades came over and we worked on songs. I have made good progress with two songs, and we started thinking about arrangements. It will be time, soon, to go into the studio and record, but I still have to write a few verses for one song, and a bridge for the other. Here's wishing for concentration...

Since I have ADD, this is not always easy. ADD is a tag-along with bipolar disorder. Sometimes, in the past, I would take ritalin, which helps me concentrate but makes me very nervous and jumpy.

I know, I know, I am just a litany of disorders. But after many years of everyone telling me "it's ok, you are fine, it's ok, everything's fine" it is liberating to realize that no, it's not fine, and that some things can be fixed.